#“You said memories become stories when we forget them. Maybe some of them become Songs.”

[seaweedstarshine]

Thinking about the convolution of Eleventh Doctor's expressions of love for River Song in Season 7B. He does not trust Clara. He is utterly (wrongly) convinced that he and Clara are playing a grand manipulative game together. “What are you, eh?! A trick? A trap?!!”

So naturally, the last thing he should do in this game is to clue his opponent in on something that could be used to hurt him. Something like River, so painfully near the end of their time together, whose data ghost he can always see, who “it would hurt too much” to acknowledge. He can't let Clara know of the loss which constantly floods his senses; (“You are always here to me. And I always listen, and I can always see you,” he professes, once Clara has vanished into his timestream).

And yet. River fills his every moment (irregardless of any sneaking out for dates with increasingly-young Rivers while Clara is asleep like he did while the Ponds slept, which would explain his absence when the TARDIS is hiding Clara's bedroom). Even though it's not strategic, he can’t help but tell Clara about her. The best defense he can manage is to phrase it as if River isn’t as important to him as she is. Not only is avoiding her first name in his grief; he's also completely avoiding pronouns; which seems extreme given that he's still mentioning her as often as: “Oh yeah, of course he has! Professor Song! Sorry, it's just I never realized you were a woman.”

Leave out the emotion — leave out the details — don't show the cracks in the armor — play the part — win the game.

“Well, there's no point now. We're about to die. JUST TELL ME WHO YOU ARE.”

[fiovske]

drunk and i watched a twelve tribute video ... ngl I miss peepaw so so much..

[jupiter049]

"You said memories become stories when we forget them. Maybe some of them become songs"

[neon-psychopomp]

"I think it's called...Clara"

Clara: You said memories become stories

when we forget them. Maybe some of

them become songs.

The Doctor: That would be nice.

Clara: Yeah. It would be, wouldn’t it?

______________

This piece is now available in my BRAND NEW InPRNT Shop!

refs and rambles below the cut

Well, I promised you guys a 12th Doctor piece, and I figured it should be something special. I couldn't stop thinking about Twelve losing his memories of Clara. Knowing that he's lost something, but unsure of what used to fill the space. I was particularly inspired by this quote  "When something goes missing, you can always recreate it by the hole it left. I know her name was Clara. I know we travelled together. I know that there was an Ice Warrior on a submarine and a mummy on the Orient Express. I know we sat together in the Cloisters and she told me something very important but I’ve no idea what she said. Or what she looked like. Or how she talked. Or laughed. There’s nothing there. Just nothing." I think Twelve has dreams of a diner, a song, and memories of something he lost.

I created my own reference to use with Z Brush and a couple of free assets :)

For the face ref I used this screenshot from Hell Bent which felt fitting.

Shout out to @thatqueercookie and everyone from the server for inspiring me so much! <3

[squidexplosions]

“How will you remember?”

“That I love you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s easy. I can’t help it.”

Heaven Sent (2015) / Eurydice (2003)

Detailed image descriptions below cut.

First image description:

Twelve and Clara’s hands holding the neuro-block together. Yellow text reads “ORPHEUS: How will you remember?” There’s fragments of the Doctor Who episode script edited into the images: “CLARA (Eyes starting to fill): I don’t think I could ever forget you.” “THE DOCTOR: Clara. I don’t think you’re ever going to have to.” “CLARA: Doctor! Oh God, please, I’m sorry, Doctor!”

The Doctor looks at Clara, fending off an expression of hurt. He’s vulnerable, on the ground, looking up at her. Yellow text reads: “EURYDICE: That I love you?”

Clara’s crying. Yellow text reads: “ORPHEUS: Yes.”

Second image description:

The Doctor’s side profile as he speaks. Yellow text reads: “EURYDICE: That’s easy.” Fragment of script reads: “CLARA: What Clara told you in the Cloisters…” “THE DOCTOR: I don’t remember a thing about it.”

Clara’s turn to fend off the grief in her expression. She looks down to avoid the Doctor’s gaze, purses her lips. Script fragment reads: “THE DOCTOR: There’s one thing I know about her. Just one thing. If I met her again, I would absolutely know.”

Another fragment reads: “On Clara’s face – a look of such pain. No, he doesn’t know. Not at all.” Clara’s in focus in the background of the frame now, about to sneak away in the diner. But in the blurry foreground—the Doctor. He’s playing his guitar. Script fragment reads: “CLARA: You said memories become stories when we forget them. Maybe some of them become songs.” Yellow text reads: “EURYDICE: I can’t help it.”

[agentark]

trying to enjoy my silly little time traveling sci-fi show while clara and the doctor say the most devastating things to and about each other every other episode like my god

If the Doctor is still the Doctor, he will have my back.

Clara, I'm not your boyfriend. // I never thought you were. // I never said it was your mistake.

Please, just...Just see me.

Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?

Clara, I'm terribly sorry, but I'm exactly what you deserve.

There was one other man. But it would've never worked out. He was impossible.

When do I not see you?

Die with whoever comes after me, you do not leave me.

I don't care about your rules, or your bloody survivor's guilt. If you love me in any way, you'll come back.

Immortality isn't living forever, that's not what it feels like. Immortality is everybody else dying. She might meet someone she can't bear to lose. That happens, I believe.

I let Clara Oswald get inside my head, trust me, she doesn't leave.

Longest month of my life. // It could only have been five minutes. // I'll be the judge of time.

I will die, and no one else here or anywhere will suffer. // What about me?

Everything you're about to say, I already know. don't do it now, we've already had enough bad timing.

Don't run. Stay with me.

I was lost a long time ago, she was saving you.

If you think because she is dead I'm weak, then you understand very little. If you were any part of killing her and you're not afraid, then you understand nothing at all.

The day you lose someone isn't the worst...it's all the days they stay dead.

I'd know you anywhere.

What were you bargaining for? // What do you think? You.

If she says so.

I had a duty of care.

People like me and you, we should say things to one another.

Look how far I went, for fear of losing you.

You said "memories become stories when we forget them." Maybe some of them become songs.

hand in unlovable hand

[lenoreamidala]

You said memories become stories when we forget them...maybe some of them become songs.

[the--highlanders]

goddd especially with like. the recurring idea of music as memory in moffat's era. 'you said memories become stories when we forget them. maybe some of them become songs' from hell bent. 'I thought I could hear the music but I can't can I? they're in another time.' 'music's funny like that' from the eaters of light. and now the doctor singing the skye boat song to calm himself and 'what remains of us is love' like it's been so LONG but he still remembers jamie through music and he can still be saved by the love he had for jamie

[what-thisiscrazzzy]

It’s crying about Twelve hours again. Twelve and Clara are just ouch. Twelve playing Clara’s song for her without even knowing. “You can’t see me can you? You look at me but you can’t see me. Do you have any idea what that’s like” said with so much desperation it hurts. Clara finally knowing what that’s like, “if I saw met her again I’d absolutely know” but that sadly wasn’t true.

“You said memories become stories when we forget them. Maybe some of them become songs”

[earlgreytea68]

was it confirmed which of which lyrics/songs in tttyg were purely patrick and which ones were heavily edited by pete? i keep wondering because when i listen to space camp, i can't help but think "i can't forget your style or your cynicism/somehow it was like you were the first to listen to anything we said/my smile's an open wound without you/and my hands are tied to pages inked to bring you back" felt like pete talking to ps, even knowing that space camp was originally written by ps about his trip away from the band

So, this is one of those things that I feel like I've seen differing accounts in places of who wrote what and when. Much like the hiatus, the story changes, and I think for the same reason, because their memories shift and see things differently. As someone who has co-written, it becomes incredibly hard to remember what you wrote and what the other person wrote -- and I wasn't even creative forever soulmates with the other people (no offense to my creative partners, who were all wonderful!!!!!).

ANYWAY, there's this tttyg commentary which I know watched all of at some point: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BPp1tCK7LLA

It's been a while, though, so I don't remember all of it. I *do* remember very vividly Pete saying that he told Patrick to change "where is your man" to "where is your boy," because saying "man" was ridiculous at Patrick's age hahahaha. PETE WAS RIGHT AT THE TIME but it's still a hilarious edit on Pete's part lololololol.

I know Patrick is on the record as saying that he mostly wrote Saturday on his own, and I think he's even said that he was so proud of "I read about the afterlife but never really lived more than an hour," because he thought Pete would like it. But I've also seen Pete claim that he wrote the "Pete and I attacked the Lost Astoria" bit, only with Patrick's name in place of Pete's, which Patrick changed when he sang it. But that might have been a joke on Pete's part, because it was in answer to a website Q&A. I've never been able to decide which is more devastating: if the lyric originated with Pete or Patrick. I like that it feels like a Schrodinger's box of a lyric to me. ;-)

I can't remember reading anything specifically about Homesick at Space Camp, although the bit about "my smile's an open wound" definitely sounds like a Pete-Wentz-ism. But the interesting thing about Patrick is that he seems have always to dovetailed a little bit with how Pete writes lyrics, like, I used to think he picked it up from Pete, but I think he always had a tendency to sound a little bit like Pete. Maybe that's part of what makes them such good soulmates, they've always kind of spoken an approximation of each other's languages.

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

Anonymously Yours: The Rise & Fall Of A Real-Life Tumblr Mystery Girl

A TWEAM Investigative Journalism Exclusive

Dolls, make yourself comfortable and settle in because I am about to tell you the true story of Tumblr Girl, or Mystery Girl as she is alternately known. Today, we will call her Tumblr Mystery Girl.

The past several months have seen a resurgence in interest in Evan Peters’ love life, mostly due to Evan’s star rising once again with the success of Netflix's Dahmer, the fact that he is very elusive and not on any social media platforms, and his most recent girlfriend, Frances Mairead, was and still is a controversial figure in the Evan Peters fandom.

I’m not sure who the first blogger was to receive the ‘’Tumblr Mystery Girl’’ story, but it wasn’t me, because I hadn’t started my blog yet! Still a humble lurker, nary a blog post to my name. Well, at least not since about... 2015. Who knew anyone still used Tumblr? Not me! Unlike many other things from that era, such as nautical themed clothing and accessories, finger mustaches, and Anastacia Beverly Hills brow pomade, Evan Peters has stood the test of time. Yes, us nostalgic millennials still love us some Evan Peters. We'll never forget the way parts of our bodies tingled when we saw Tate Langdon on our screens for the very first time. Countless Lana Del Rey songs were passionately sung in dedication to this both average looking and somehow also intensely sexy and desirable, pale-skinned, dark-eyed man with a heart of gold and an ass that just won't quit. Ah, yes. Even Ryan Murphy himself couldn't keep from pointing a lustful camera on that bare behind. Gratuitous? Maybe, but we're not complaining.

Tell me I'm your national anthem.

Anyway, let's get down to it.

All I know for sure is that somebody received this anonymous ask, because it was posted on the EvanPetersLovers subreddit February 7 (https://www.reddit.com/r/EvanPetersLovers/)

One thing immediately stands out to the reader, which is that the asker writes without proper punctuation.

Once this ask was received, the information seemed to quickly circulate within the community, and over the course of the next several days, it's believability would become a re-occurring debate. By the time this blog was created on February 12, the story had been passed around from tea account to tea account, with many details getting muddled along the way. There were now major discrepancies across these asks, with details like hair color, eye color and weight varying as curious people went off memory to retell the story they heard and search for answers.

Within days of opening this blog, I began to receive ''tips'' about the Tumblr Mystery Girl myself. On February 18, another sighting was reported; this time, Evan was allegedly seen with her at a night club in Burbank, California.

As multiple users began to rapid-fire discuss this anonymous message, one asker seemed to return time and time again to build the case. One with a very recognizable typing style.

And soon after, we would come to see this screenshot of the blog that was said to belong to Tumblr Mystery Girl herself, groovyheartland:

We all wondered, how did someone find the Tumblr page for a girl whose name we did not know, whose face we had never seen? How did a rumored sighting with no photographic evidence lead to the discovery of an otherwise unknown and unremarkable Tumblr blog? It seemed highly unlikely, nearly impossible. Even more unlikely were the odds that enough people had found this unknown's page, having associated it with Evan's possible romantic interest, and sent her taunting asks about them dating. The anonymous messages alleged to have been received by ''groovyheartland'' also bare the same lack of punctuation seen in the previous asks about this subject. This is the part where I tell you I believe that our anonymous asker does not speak English as her native language. French, perhaps? But let me not get ahead of myself...

By February 20th, after much back and forth, I felt confident that I was being used as a pawn to build out a story crafted by the very ANON I was speaking to! I hadn't yet put all of the pieces together, but I knew that I couldn't in good faith keep posting about this story. I decided then that I would pause the discussion, and purposefully end engagement with the pro-Tumblr Mystery Girl anonymous askers. I regret to say I didn't screenshot the last couple of anonymous messages I received and deleted without posting, however, it was more of the same: someone claiming that they had followed the now-deleted Tumblr blog, describing her physically, speculating that she was probably French, etc.

Here is my Tumblr post from February 20th when I decided to begin filtering out the Tumblr Mystery Girl asks:

After this, many readers joined me in my assumption that it had all been a scam. Still, I would occasionally receive asks about Tumblr Mystery Girl, either referencing her as a past sighting indicating that Evan was dating, or as the butt of a joke.

Fast forward to February 26. Evan Peters attends the SAG awards solo, with no mystery woman in sight. However, he arrives at the after party with Haley Lu Richardson, where the two are said to be flirting and enjoying each others' company. In the following days, a hookup rumor courtesy of Deuxmoi is the new hot topic of discussion. But one anonymous asker wasn't willing to let go of Tumblr Mystery Girl just yet.

By this point, the Tumblr Mystery Girl had become more of a running joke to those involved, with many asking where she was during the alleged hook up between Haley and Evan.

The day that Deuxmoi released their Sunday Spotted stories including Haley and Evan's burrito date, I joked with another reader about the situation. You can see I have adopted the now familiar typing style we've come to associate with this anon.

Our stubborn anon did not like this joke. I received a long, angry message defending the existence of Tumblr Mystery Girl. This time, the writer is taking on yet another identity: friend to the Tumblr Mystery Girl. Yes, this anon is defending her friend and the secret relationship she had with Evan Peters!

Now, I have to admit that I had a little chuckle as I read this message, but I had long ago decided that this story was a hoax. I screenshotted for good measure, deleted it from my ask box, and moved on to the next. This is it, I thought. The last of the Tumblr Mystery Girl - she's officially been ''killed off'' in this story of Evan Peters' rumored love-life, the final blow delivered by Haley Lu Richardson.

But then, a spark of hope emerged that her story was not yet finished. As Natasha Bedingfield once sang, the rest is still unwritten. So it seemed.

The week of March 6th brought a Twitter spotting of our favorite cave-dwelling actor and professional Amazon Product Reviewer, Evan Thomas Peters. He was on the move, headed for Missouri and the loving embrace of his family and hometown friends. Realizing he had arrived solo, any (rumored) Haley Lu lovin' would have to wait until he returned to his love-cave, his domain: the blandly furnished Burbank condo where the American Horror Story and Dahmer - Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story actor relaxes and enjoys a nightly ritual of blocking pseudo-fans from his Spotify account, eventually22. These persistent, Gen-Z Twitter edgelords are a different breed of ''fans'' who feel a sadistic thrill imagining a defeated Evan Peters trying in vain to free himself and his multiple public playlists from the intrusive and speculative gaze of unemployed young adults on their parents' internet connection. Every night, the struggle begins anew.

At approximately 6:00pm EST on March 9, an anonymous ask was received.

The anon sent in two nearly identical asks, however, only one was published. The Twitter link lead to a post sharing a purported sighting.

The tweet had a very familiar feel, referencing a brunette girl. I decided to take a thorough look at the Twitter profile the tweet came from to determine it's authenticity. With a March 2023 join date, random, seemingly unrelated retweets, and no other original tweets from the account owner besides the Evan Peters/Brunette sighting, I quickly recognized that this was a burner account. Alas, I myself am a bit of a Twitter burner account aficionado, and it would take a much more well-orchestrated lie to fool me. I had a feeling, but wasn't yet 100% sure that this Twitter account was created and shared for the sole purpose of reigniting the Tumblr Mystery Girl rumor. But I felt sure the anon was not to be trusted.

Shot through the heart: The crestfallen anon retreats as she realizes the jig is up.

All anon could do was deny that she is the ''Tweeter post creator'' and leave with one final insidious blow to my (astonishingly large) ego: comparing the behavior on my blog - a premier gossip and discussion juggernaut, with that of the disgraced Frances Mairead archivist slash anti, legal adviser to herself and secretkeeperlove, and mistress of the IP address: goneforteawithdad, or gftwd, for short.

Moments later, the Twitter account disappeared. A near confession that the Tumblr anon and Twitter burner account were operated by the same person, who had faced defeat at the hands of logic and sound reasoning, and seemingly decided to disappear back into the shadows.

And so, that's where the story ends. It seems that one anon was responsible for peddling all the lies and folklore we've come to associate with Tumblr Mystery Girl. From the groovyheartland Tumblr page itself, to the "anonymous" Evan Peters girlfriend asks groovyheartland received, to the Twitter post about the burger joint brunette - the signature writing style remains consistent in this one-woman show.

We all still have questions. What was the endgame for this anonymous false witness? Was the groovyheartland Tumblr meant to ultimately play a bigger role by returning once interest was at it's peak? This would have given the perpetrator a chance to actually introduce a character into the story: a face. And a name, eventually. We'll likely never know the answer to these questions, unless the anonymous asker emerges from the shadows to give us a satisfactory explanation, with or without proper punctuation.

It should be noted that it was an average Thursday night on Tumblr; a weekday like any other, when truth rang out across the app and gossip-lovers rejoiced that we'd untangled one anonymous asker's web of lies. In real life, mysteries aren't solved in 60 minutes and wrapped up all tidy in a bow so you can sleep sound tonight, like on TV. In real life, solving mysteries can take weeks, months, even years. Without so many anonymous and nosy Evan Peters fans willing to think critically and ask important questions, we may never have learned the truth about Tumblr Mystery Girl.

[jellofish4000]

The Male Genius

02/01/2023

The male genius. 

I am a woman, yet somehow I have become entirely enthralled with the male genius. 

The male genius is a myth, of course. And it is not miraculously that I have come to center so much of my media consumption around this myth. Putting on a new movie, picking up a new book, listening to a new album. These male geniuses are everywhere. Why is it that Elliot Smith seems to capture the essence of our existence so perfectly? How do Shakespeare or DFW or Poe manage to write in a way that seems so innovative and incomparable? The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Pink Floyd, Michael Jackson, Prince, Tupac, Elvis, Fitzgerald, DeLillo, Scorsese, Hitchcock, Spielberg, Nolan, Mozart, Liszt, Chopin, Beethoven. It continues. It continues on and on, forever and ever. Men are the universal constant. Jesus himself. God always referred to as a “he”. A force so much larger than humanity is a man, consciously or subconsciously. We all know “history was written by men” but let’s not forget about everything else. 

I will never forget the time a friend (a man) marveled at my music listening habits once, telling me so sincerely: “You only listen to them (some kpop group I can’t bring myself to remember) because you think they’re attractive.” The shock on his face when I told him I had no clue what this particular group of men looked like was laughable. Sure there can be elements of attraction whenever you consume something. Watching a good movie and finding out the dude behind the camera is just your type. It’s a pleasant surprise. But you don’t go on to scour streaming sites for his films just because you think the guy’s attractive… You scour and scale because you have never seen a person use a camera like that. Write a song like that. Describe a feeling like that. He may even be the exact, feature for feature, opposite of your type. He may remind you of that man you wish more than anything to forget. But wow have you ever heard someone speak so eloquently? Have you ever seen anyone with such unique little ticks and habits? Have you ever heard a voice like that? And that attitude is simply… 

They are everywhere all the time. “The first to do this”, “The first to land here”, “The first to think of this”. 

I sit. I write things. I delete. I wonder why there aren’t more women in the things I consume. 

The terrible reality is, the male genius may not be a myth. It may very well be the truth. Maybe they are just that good. And it’s not that us women are utter shit. It’s not that we can’t write in awe-striking ways or convey our existence along the same vein as an Elliot Smith song. It’s more like we’re not allowed to. There are very certain things a woman should be. People flamed on Jennifer Lawrence recently after she admitted how proud she was for her role as a major female protagonist in popular culture following The Hunger Games movies. A studio exec had told her something along the lines of “men can’t relate to female stories.” She was determined to prove them wrong through the spirit of Katniss Everdeen. The internet-o-sphere lit flames under her bed after that interview. They pulled up all sorts of previous examples of “strong” and “independent” female characters that did it before her. The flames consumed her, the blame fell squarely on her shoulders because God forbid she give herself a little credit where credit is due. Everyone chose to ignore what the studio exec had said. 

Men are the geniuses always because they are allowed to be. They are allowed to sit in a studio for 3 days in a row, screaming demands in all directions until they make the perfect track, only to beat their wife and small child when they finally make an appearance back home. They are free to be raging alcoholics and avid drug users, writing down their life-shattering experiences for pages on end, and when they pass they will forever be memorialized as the tragedy we should’ve done more to protect. We will trust the Elvis biopic of a male genius into the hands of another male genius and milk 8 Oscar nominations from the results. We will similarly trust these men with the Marylin Monroe biopic fated to die a silent death and fade into the obscure of unfortunately shitty movies. Some man will confess on a forum for musicians that Alanis Morisette is his guilty pleasure because, naturally, she is something to be ashamed of, nevermind the quality of her music. I will continue to add song after song to my playlist, watch film after film, read book after book, learn fact after fact because those feelings are what I want from life. I want to be able to live it the way I desire. I dream of breaking free from expectations. “Woman” is a label held above my head at all times, that I wear proudly, but one that brings me great pain. Nothing I can do will subdue this feeling. I experience my freedom vicariously through all the men who are allowed to express their pain and suffering without fear of revolt or mockery, but I will always continue to dig through the pile for the female genius. The Ella Fitzgeralds, Donna Tarts, Cate Blanchetts, Mary Shellys, and The Wachowskis of the world. Our collective suffering knows little bounds. We are bonded together by it across the world. And we can also make those unimaginable, irreplicable, inherently important things. One day, the act of being a woman won’t be anything to be ashamed of.

[good-oldfashioned-lover-girl]

i couldn’t stop thinking about this suggestion so i decided to brainstorm some ideas (i’m not a writer, but i like coming up with story lines so who knows where this will go)-

one thing i was thinking was a world in which, although you weren’t informed due to being a human, you share with vampires and werewolves and other mythical beings. i know it’s a bit of a cheap get around, but hear me out. an incredibly introverted vampire, similar to you, sees you one day on the street and instantly fell in love with the way you smiled to yourself and muttered song lyrics, the way you looked around to check that no one saw you stumble slightly, the way you tried to make polite conversation with the owner of the local coffee shop, despite clearly having no clue what you were doing, the way you then blushed as the cashier smiled as you said thanks, because they know you and they are grateful for how hard you tried. the vampire then tried everything to get to know you better, never being able to forget. they would go buy books at the second hand bookstore you worked in and would leave dried flowers on the counter with the money. they would linger a little longer than necessary and always ask what you were reading, before immediately buying it if possible. they would leave the book or their drink behind by ‘accident’, just so you would have to run after them and potentially today they would ask you to continue walking with them. but before they build up the courage to go any further though you move away and the vampire doesn’t see you again. however this doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten you because for decades they are still writing letters to you and drying flowers in them. never sending these letters, but still writing them. they don’t realise how much time has passed before finally seeking you out again, and so by the time they find you, you have unfortunately passed for the first time. this devastates the vampire, and causes the for once fresh flowers they had brought to wilt and become as dry as the rest. instead of giving up, they cannot stand the way they stood around for years, and they become determined to bring you back. when you’ve only died once, i was thinking it seems like you would be in a kinda in between zone, not alive but also not completely gone if that makes sense. and so consequently the vampire spends centuries checking off every witch and homemade recipes which might bring you back, because although they cannot bring you back to life, they can bring back your ghost which is enough for them to finally have a proper conversation with you. as none of these work, the vampire burns all their letters in a fit of sadness and rage, and from the ashes your ghost takes form. i know this sounds a bit odd so there would probably be a better way but i was thinking that in the letters the vampire could have talked all about you, and the mixing of all those memories might have been enough to form your conscious self but i don’t know? the first thing you hear when you can think again is a small, nervous voice complementing your ghostly form. the strangeness of the situation baffles you so much you don’t know how to respond, and so when they finally ask you out on a date a few seconds later, you say yes. for the rest of time the ghost and the vampire can be found living a sweet life of romance in a small cottage in the woods, with just enough space for a library and a flower patch out the back. (there are probably loads of problems with this and i haven’t even started checking for plot holes which i’m sure are abundant but these are just my midnight ramblings so here we are) (also loosely inspired by this song:

)

on a completely different level i was also imagining a story of revenge. maybe when you were alive you cut in line or accidentally bumped into someone on the street. maybe you bought the last muffin or took the last parking spot for miles. whatever petty thing you have done and promptly forgotten about has angered the current heir of a long and noble line of people no one has ever heard of or cared about. this current heir feels as though they have been greatly wronged, and consequently vowed to take revenge, even if it took many lifetimes. centuries later that heir’s children’s children’s children’s children are still trying to uphold this vow, and are desperately planning their after death lives in which they will make your life as inconvenient as possible through similarly petty grievances. (this is a much shorter and more general idea, and not in anyway a developed plot line but i was just having some fun with a different view of why someone wouldn’t forget your name.)

if you’ve got this far congratulations and minor apologies for my lack of editing or actual review of what i’ve written but for some reason this idea really really stuck with me so i’ve been thinking about it and decided to write it down so here we are i guess, but thanks for reading and i would really love to hear any other takes of this suggestion!!

You die two deaths - your physical death and your true death when your name is spoken for the last time. You, a mild-mannered introvert, have been stuck in limbo for centuries waiting for your true death, and finally found out why.

[cosmiclove-heavenstruck]

you want to tell me taylor swift does not know about the line in doctor who that goes "you said memories becomes stories when we forget them. maybe some of them become songs." before writing folklore and evermore

[thesunwillshineonusagain757]

𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙸𝚁𝙴 𝙼𝙴 ➥ 6/∞ ➦ Clara Oswald

You're not my boss. You're one of my hobbies.

You said memories becomes stories when we forget them...Maybe some of them become songs.

I always know.

─────⟨ ♀ ⟩ ─────

[the10thdoctor]

//i keep thinking about parallels between nwh and doctor who and specifically tonight hell bent and just *screams*